


Pappardelle Sulla Lepre

by iscatterthemintimeandspace



Series: Sweet  Sabriel Serial Killer Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anniversaries, Cannibalism, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt: Feast, Sabriel- Established Relationship, Serial Killer! Gabriel, Serial Killer! Sabriel, Serial Killer! Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/iscatterthemintimeandspace
Summary: Sequel One shot to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You) but can be read as a stand- alone.Written for the Unnatural Writer's Club on the SPN Amino. Prompt: FeastGabriel prepares a feast for his and Sam’s anniversary.





	

[](http://i.imgur.com/qmhlQNV)

Gabriel Novak sharpened his favorite chef’s knife. The thing was already so sharp it could split a hair in half, but everything had to be perfect for tonight. 

 

He and Sam had something of a tradition for their anniversary; each year, they’d prepare a big meal and cook together. This year, it was Gabriel’s turn to cook, and he wanted to impress Sam with his culinary prowess.

 

Sam and Gabriel weren’t fancy people by nature; they were both homebodies who would rather spend an evening curled up on the couch watching old movies with their dogs, but once in awhile, it was nice to try something different. 

 

Their two dogs, a Jack Russell named Arthur Two, and a mutt named Candy milled around his feet as he prepared his utensils, knowing that if Gabriel was cooking, they’d be able to get scraps. Sam never caved to their doggie pleas, but Gabriel could never help himself. 

 

He didn’t even have to look to find his favorite cookbook on the shelf, he could find it by touch alone, the cracked brown leather binding giving it away immediately. It had been his grandmother’s, passed down to him when his mother died, and was his bible when it came to unusual fare. His grandmother was of a different age and believed in using every part of the animal, and as a result, Gabriel had grown a taste for things often considered offal by most people: liver, kidneys, lungs and heart. 

 

He set the book down on the counter, thumbing through it as he decided what to make. He’d marked with sticky tabs the ones he already made for Sam, so he knew what he’d already done. When you’d been together as long as they’d been, you had to make everything different count. After much deliberation, Gabriel decided on “fries”, snails in absinthe cream and a blood orange salad for the first course, Dinuguan stew, heart with sausage stuffing and pappardelle sulla lepre for the main course. 

 

Gabriel pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Sam, asking him to pick up the cuts of meat that he needed for the feast he was about to prepare. Everything else, he either already had on hand or would get at the market. He jotted down a list of ingredients and headed off to the store.

 

The specialty grocer that Gabriel preferred was only a couple of minutes away, and Gabriel was anxious to get his ingredients and begin cooking. Some of the things he’d chosen were time and labor intensive, and he didn’t want to keep Sam waiting all that long. Normally he liked to tease him, but the food would get cold. He picked out what he needed, and paid for it in cash, carefully packing everything in nondescript paper bags. His phone buzzed as he slipped into his car, a text from Sam confirming Gabriel’s request. He signed it with a kiss emoji and Gabriel smiled all the way home. 

 

After taking the dogs out for a quick run, Gabriel settled in to start prepping. Even though Sam was bringing the meat for their feast, there was still much left to do. 

 

He started with the salad. He began by slicing red onions and cutting quarters of crimson blood oranges. Then he washed the treviso that would be the basis of his salad, forcing the leaves to hang open like a large flower. He tucked blood orange slices, onions and frisee lettuce into the leaves. The colors meshed wonderfully and he whipped up a simple beet dressing to add later. The whole platter went into the fridge to chill. 

 

He cleaned the mushrooms and snails for the appetizer next, careful to clean any traces of dirt from them. When Sam came home, he would saute the mushrooms in butter until they got brown, and then add the snails until they were hot. The snails would be popped from their shells, and served inside the mushroom caps with a crusty bread and a tangy absinthe cream. 

 

He’d prepare the “fries” next. They weren’t made from potatoes as one would think, but testicles, normally of a lamb. The meat, which was creamy in texture, would be cleaned and cut like french fries, dredged in a mix of panko and spices and deep-fried. Sam often didn’t like fried food, but this was anything but greasy. 

 

Gabriel would start the main courses while they sipped wine and nibbled on the hor ‘devours, just enough to whet their appetites. 

 

The Dinuguan stew would be served first. It was a classic dish from the Philippines made with lungs, liver and blood. He would start with the liver, boiling it to make the rich stock. Lungs, garlic, fish sauce, and bay leaf would be added, and the blood, mixed with sugar and pepper would complete his offering for Sam. 

 

The heart with sausage stuffing, braised and wrapped in bacon would follow up, finished off with Pappardelle sulla Lepre, a pasta dish normally containing hare’s meat and blood to thicken and enrich the sauce.

 

Gabriel hummed to himself as he prepared and diced vegetables, dancing around his kitchen to the sound of his own voice. He was so absorbed in his task that he only barely heard the knock on his door. 

 

He went to answer it and found Sam standing there, grinning at him with a bouquet of yellow roses, his favorite flower. 

 

“Oh Sam, you didn’t have to,” Gabriel laughed as he leaned in to kiss his husband. Sam deepened the kiss, pressing against him like a teenager. 

 

“I wanted to. I love the way your eyes light up when I surprise you,” he admitted, handing the flowers to Gabriel. 

 

“Did you pick up the meat like I asked?” Gabriel questioned, peeking behind him. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day for this feast.” 

 

“Of course,” Sam smirked at him and stood aside, revealing his prize. “Would I forget?” 

 

Gabriel looked at the man that was trussed up behind his husband, looking at him in wide-eyed terror, his mouth closed with duct tape. Gabriel pinched his arm as if testing it, and Sam hauled him inside and into the kitchen.

 

Gabriel grabbed the knife he’d been sharpening from the sideboard. 

 

“Dinner’s served.”


End file.
